Harry can't stop howling over the loss of his wolf cuddly toy. He'd saved the not-wolf dog, and it repaid him by turning mean like Ripper and tearing his wolf apart.
Harry shakes his head vigorously, still picturing how it shook the wolf around. He growls at himself, wishing he'd been able to rescue his cuddly toy like he'd rescued the real dog.
Logan doesn't tell Harry to shut up, but he doesn't shower him with promises to buy him something better, or even hug him. Harry isn't throwing a tantrum to get something, like Dudley always does. He just can't get over how the dog betrayed him.
Logan just raises an eyebrow once Harry calms down. Harry doesn't know what he means, but Logan mutters "People are gonna think I'm hurtin' you."
Harry wonders if people will think Logan's chewing him up, too. He pets Logan's hairy arm. Anyone who thinks that is dumb.
Logan climbs into the driver's seat. As Logan drives, Harry stares out the window, sulking. Cuddling a pillow isn't nearly as nice as cuddling his wolf had been. He buries his head in it, longing for the soft fur, the reminder that Logan cared for him even when he was sick and really was a useless burden.
The pillow feels fuzzier. Harry lifts up his head. There's no way his wolf came back, right?
The pillow is now fuzzy like his wolf was, but it's still a pillow, not a toy animal. Harry had no idea he could make things fuzzy, and Logan says that Harry always has a new trick up his sleeve.
Harry rubs his arms under his sleeves, wondering if he can make them hairy like Logan's. It feels nice, but he doesn't get any hairier.
Logan parks their truck in a forest clearing. They move into the back and climb into the loft, and it would have been awfully crowded with the big dog in the bed, too.
Harry snuggles the fuzzy pillow as he curls up next to Logan.
That night, Harry dreams that Ripper the dog is giant enough to trap Logan in his jaws, shaking him viciously. Logan's snarling back, hacking with his claws, but they aren't doing anything. Harry screams and attacks, but he's unable to stop Ripper as he shreds Logan to pieces.
No, no, no. Logan said he can heal. Harry stares, aghast, at the stuffing coming out of the torn-off arm. Then he hears a growl.
A wolf pack- Logan's family- has come, and they are furious to see what happened to Logan. Harry tries to explain that he tried to save him, tries to warn them to run before Ripper tears them apart too, but they close in on him, snarling, ready to devour him.
Harry wakes up panting, something fuzzy against his arm. It's the stuffing, and he feels Logan's arm above his head. Harry tries to cram the stuffing back into Logan's arm, but there's no hole to stuff it into.
Harry blinks. Logan's all in one piece. He really had healed, and Harry can see his chest rising and falling.
Harry lets out a shaky sigh of relief, resting his head on Logan's chest, hearing his heartbeat. He realizes the stuffing is actually the fuzzy pillow.
Logan rumbles under Harry's head. "Bad dream, bub?"
Harry clings to the shoulder strap of Logan's sleeveless shirt. It's stupid, really. If that had happened, there would have been blood, not stuffing. Logan would say he ain't a toy, if Harry could tell him about the dream.
"I ain't your snuggly wolf." Logan grumbles as Harry keeps cuddling him, though he doesn't actually push Harry off.
In the morning, Logan takes Harry back into town to visit a toy store. Harry can't believe it. He's never been to a toy store before, and hadn't thought Logan would ever step foot in one, though he must have gotten the wolf from somewhere.
The store has more toys than even Dudley had in his second bedroom. There are toy motorbikes, a toy camper for dolls and every sort of ball Harry could ever imagine; big rubber balls, foam balls, hard little glass marbles. Harry scouts around for the hard, numbered balls he'd thrown in the pub, but there's no large green table here.
He finds a box with a picture of a miniature green table with balls and sticks. "Tabletop pool." Logan snorts, shaking his head at the box. "Ain't worth it when it's shrunk down."
Logan hadn't wanted him to shrink the camper either.
There are tons of small plastic animals, including a whole family of wolves. Harry picks them up, but they aren't very cuddly. He might be able to make them fuzzy, like he had the pillow, but he hasn't made anything grow larger yet.
Logan nods over at a section of cuddly toys. Harry finds cuddly bears, horses, rabbits, snakes, monkeys, cats and dogs, but no wolves.
Logan points at a brown cuddly toy that sort of looks like a bear, but it has a longer, bushier tail, golden fur on its face, and a golden stripe along each side. "That's a wolverine."
Harry bats the toy against Logan's dog tags. This is a wolverine? Why did Logan live with wolves, if he's this instead? It's clearly not a wolf; it doesn't look anything like one.
The wolverine toy is soft, and seems happy to cuddle with Harry in a way Logan isn't always. Harry strokes its brown fur as Logan pays for it at the register.
Harry can hardly believe how lucky he is as he carries his wolverine, walking next to the real one. Logan has given him more than he'd ever dreamed of having. Harry doesn't have nearly as many toys as Dudley has. He doesn't have two bedrooms, or even his own bedroom like the cupboard, but he doesn't mind.
The next time Harry helps collect firewood, he feels sorry for the trees. They're watching others get chopped up and carted away, like Harry watched the dog trot off with his torn up wolf.
One of the trees they leave standing even has a hole where the heart would be. Harry's heart had felt like there was a hole in it, even though it had been obvious there wasn't.
Harry helps Logan load the firewood into the trailer, but he can't shake the sorry feeling. As Logan heads off for a smoke break, Harry unloads the trailer as best he can, carrying the kindling back to the trees. He can't haul the logs back, and he can't fix the sticks, but he lays them down gently among the roots.
He feels awful for clawing and hacking branches with his pocket knife, for making Logan cut even more. He'd hurt them so many times, like the dog hurt him.
"What do ya think yer doin'?" Logan asks from behind him. Harry can't explain without words that he knows how the trees feel. He shakes his head vigorously again, to show about the dog, but Logan doesn't seem to understand.
"Pick 'em back up." Logan points his cigar at the pile. "Yer usually a good helper."
Harry scowls. It's not quite like Aunt Petunia berating him for not being able to hoover, but Harry's still not happy to hear it. He doesn't move to pick up the sticks, instead folding his arms over his chest like Logan does sometimes.
Logan studies him, cigar clamped between his teeth again. "Ya tryin' to make more work?"
Harry stomps his foot. He's trying to say sorry to the trees. He hadn't even considered it, any of the other times they collected firewood, just like the Dursleys never considered his feelings about anything.
A shout escapes Harry. It's like Logan doesn't even care about hurting the trees. Harry howls as Logan starts chopping down another one.
"Don't tell me yer turnin' into a hippie." Logan grumbles, not pausing his chopping until Harry tries to pull the ax away. Logan snarls, but stops swinging the ax. Harry keeps shouting.
"What's eatin' ya, bub?" Logan demands, folding his hairy arms.
Harry frowns. Nothing's eating him, except in that dream, and that was a few nights ago, now.
"Something's botherin' ya, ain't it?" Logan changes the words so they make more sense.
Harry stares at the hacked tree and the ax. He thinks about carving a sad face into the tree, so Logan would see how sad it is, but that would hurt the tree too. It's already dead, though, thanks to Logan chopping it.
Harry marches to the truck, digging around the cab until he finds a receipt and a pen. He sketches a sad tree and cut-up logs, then marches back and thrusts the receipt at Logan.
"The trees ain't sad." Logan snorts. "They're livin' but they ain't got any brains."
That doesn't make Harry feel any better. Aunt Petunia said he didn't have any brains, either.
"They don't feel a thing." Logan tells him, swinging the ax again. Harry cries in fury.
Instead of the thwack of the ax striking wood, the blade bends as if it's suddenly made of rubber.
Logan tosses the rubber ax aside and balls his hands into fists. His claws pop out, and Harry briefly braces for an attack.
"I ain't gonna hurt you, and I ain't hurtin' the trees." Logan tells him in a somewhat softer voice, even if it's far from gentle.
"Ya hear me?" Logan asks, rather impatiently. "We're just gettin' firewood. You never had a problem with it before."
Harry nods. He used to be excited, watching Logan hack sticks and logs. It was proof Logan could protect him.
"Ya goin' to lose yer head if I chop more wood?" Logan asks. Harry slowly shakes his head. Not unless Logan chops his head off, and he'd never do that.
"Don't turn me rubber, bub." Logan warns, swiping his claws at the tree instead of Harry.
Harry doesn't scream as Logan carries the logs to the trailer, but he leaves the kindling with the trees.
Harry's still amazed how Logan makes everything better, even bad things. Harry had hated when Dudley had sat on him, pinning Harry with his bulk as he punched him, but wrestling with Logan quickly becomes one of Harry's favorite games.
Logan always says he isn't cuddly, but he doesn't seem to mind when Harry clings to him as they roll around the forest floor. It's really not that different from hugging.
Harry knows Logan could rip him off if he really wanted to, or rip him up, but Logan seems happy to play. He even encourages Harry to claw at him, though he never claws back at Harry. His claws never emerge when they wrestle.
Harry thinks Logan's probably training him for more pub fights, like when he taught Harry how to throw rocks better.
Logan even comes up with a form of Harry Hunting, but somehow it isn't cruel like when Dudley and his friends played it. Logan says Harry needs to learn to escape from enemies, as if more people will try playing Harry Hunting for real.
They play a sort of hide-and-seek, where Harry has to notice Logan sneaking up on him, and run before he's caught.
Harry's always been fast, and Dudley usually couldn't catch him. Logan barks instructions as he chases Harry through the trees, telling Harry to run in unpredictable patterns.
Logan catches him and tosses him into a pile of soft leaves. Harry returns Logan's feral grin as they start to wrestle again. He manages to slip out of Logan's grip and cling to Logan's back. Logan tells Harry to claw at his eyes, but Harry doesn't hurt Logan for real.
"I heal real quick," Logan reminds him. "Trust me, I've had worse."
Harry still refuses, instead simply hanging onto Logan's back, not letting himself be shaken off. It's still a game, because Logan doesn't try to knock him off against a tree or anything.
"Come on, bub." Logan sets off back to the truck, carrying Harry on his back the whole way.
I have fond childhood memories of wrestling with my dad, and wanted Harry to have that too, even if Logan sort of view it as training instead of just a game. At least Harry didn't lose his glasses in the leaves like my brother and I did. Our dad had to hunt ours down with a metal detector and wasn't happy.